


Kidnapped

by Toshua



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Panther Spirit Guide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshua/pseuds/Toshua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is kidnapped.  Blair calls for help from the spiritual plain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kidnapped

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this would fall in the 4 seasons. Sometime after Warriors, most likely. 
> 
> Originally posted in 852 Prospect Place in 2000

Kidnapped

"I can't believe this is happening!" Blair paced Simon's office, hands flying though the air as fast as his words flew out of his mouth. His glare froze Simon behind his desk. "You BOTH promised that Jim would be on desk duty if I went." 

"Sandburg, if you'll calm down, I can finish briefing you." The police captain tried to keep his voice calm, tried to project soothing thoughts to the upset young man. 

"Calm down? Jim is out there, being held hostage for a drug exchange, and you want me to calm down!" 

"Sandburg! SIT!" Simon launched himself out of his chair, letting his bulk tower over the furious bundle of energy. He didn't use his size very often, but when he did, he knew just what to do with it. 

Glaring at the larger man, Sandburg reluctantly sat down in the chair in front of the desk. The observer dragged in a long breath then let it out, repeating the exercise until some of the emotions eased and his compact frame relaxed slightly. 

"Okay. As I was trying to tell you, Jim is being held hostage in exchange for 10 kilos of china white that Vice confiscated in a bust last week." He held up his hand. "No, I don't know how they picked Jim as a cop, he had nothing to do with the bust. We're looking into the possibility that whoever was supposed to take delivery of the drugs knew Jim from a previous bust and decided to make an example of him." 

"From when he was in Vice?" 

"Maybe." The police captain pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Right now, it's only a guess." 

"So what are we going to do? You don't negotiate for cops. I know that, you know that..." Blair tried to keep his voice quiet, tried not to let his fear overrule his brain. The man in front of him was Jim's friend, his too. He was also a good cop. He had to let Simon do his job. 

"We've got every snitch on the street working. I've pulled every undercover Vice cop in on this. Before we can plan a strategy, I need to know who we're dealing with." 

"What can I do?" 

Simon took a deep breath, eyes never leaving the grad student. He'd had an idea in the middle of the night that had stayed with him all morning. Then when Blair had charged into his office, straight from LA with his backpack still slung over a shoulder, the idea had jelled. The young man in front of him was part of a unique team, and that was an advantage that he'd never tried to use, even though he knew that it was there for the asking. 

"When did you know that something was wrong?" 

"Huh?" Blair's gaze met the brown eyes, his mind already leap frogging to the next question. "You mean, when did I know Jim was in trouble?" He glanced at his watch. "Fourteen hours ago. I was on the waterfront with Naomi when I felt... something... like I was being torn in two inside." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Then I heard the panther scream and I knew I was feeling Jim. Mom caught me before I hit the pavement. She kept asking me what was wrong." He got out of the chair and paced to the back wall. There, he turned around and leaned against a bookcase for a moment, the bright blue eyes focused inward on a memory. "Mom was demanding an explanation. I was calling for Jim. I kept hearing the panther scream, and it got fainter and fainter." He shook his head, long hair flying in his face. "It was not a good scene." 

Simon nodded. "I can imagine. What did you tell your mother?" 

Blair met the dark eyes again. "I honestly don't know. I just knew I had to find a phone, call Jim, call you. I was so totally focused on Jim, that I don't remember much until I was hearing your voice telling me to calm down." 

Simon moved over to the coffee pot. He poured a mug and handed it to Sandburg before pouring one of his own. The frantic phone call had caught him just as he was about to go bed. He'd listened to the panicked voice until Naomi had pulled the receiver from her son, identified herself, and explained that Blair had seen something happen to Jim and now he couldn't find him. She calmly and clearly informed the police captain that she'd already talked to dispatch and requested that a unit drive by the loft. Then she had left a phone number where they could be reached and asked that Simon call her back within the hour and reassure Blair that Jim was fine. 

Simon hadn't been able to reassure the young man. When dispatch called him half an hour later it was with a report of shots fired, and Jim's truck found, crashed, a block from the loft, with blood on the driver's seat. The next two hours were a blur as he mobilized a search for the wounded cop, or witnesses to what had happened. 

When he finally picked up the phone and called Los Angeles, Sandburg had already gotten a ticket on the next available flight to Seattle, which left mid-morning. Ever resourceful, he'd contacted a friend that worked for a logging outfit and scored a ride into Cascade on an 18-wheeler. Simon had to admire the young man's determination. If Jim was in trouble, then Blair was there, wherever there was. 

"Can you still feel him?" The question was gentle. Simon wasn't sure how far he trusted or believed in this Sentinel/Guide business. He'd seen Jim do some pretty amazing things over the past two years. He'd also seen Sandburg at his detective's shoulder focusing him and pulling him out of harm's way when the detective sank too deep into whatever he was focused on. But to know that Sandburg had felt Jim's pain over 500 miles away was beyond comprehension. "Could you find him, lead us to him?" 

Blair closed his eyes and sagged against the bookcase he was leaning upon. "I don't know, Simon. Maybe. When I reach out for what I'm feeling, it's gone. Kinda like seeing something out of the corner of your eye. If you look at it directly, it's not there." 

"Would Jim know if you were close?" 

"I think so, if he's conscious." He ran his hands through the long curls, eyes closed as he tried to look inside, then sighed. "We've never tried to find each other just using the awareness that we have of one another's presence. We couldn't define it, pin it down. I think Jim was afraid to look at it too closely." Blair sipped at his coffee and grimaced at the temperature. He went back to Simon's pot and warmed up the mug. "You never told me what you found in the truck that made you sure that Jim's disappearance is connected to the drug bust." 

"There was a note, short and sweet. 'Ellison for the drugs. We'll be in touch.' A marker scribbled the note on the side of the grocery bag that was on the seat. No leads there. One of the witnesses thought she saw two big men in dark clothes pull Jim from the wreck and put him in a dark sedan. But it was late at night, no street lights. So we've got nothing, no description, no license plates, nothing." 

Blair sat the coffee cup down and picked up his discarded pack. "Can someone give me a ride to the loft? I want to take a shower, then I want to see if I can..." he paused, searching for the right words, "home into him. Pick him up somehow. Maybe his spirit guide will help." 

"The panther?" Simon grabbed his coat, opened the door and pushed Sandburg out of the office. 

"Yeah. I can't explain it, Simon, but it guards Jim's soul." Clear of Major Crimes, Blair reached under the neck of his tee shirt, pulled out a delicately carved wooden panther on a leather cord. "Jim gave me this after Incacha died. He said Incacha made it for him, that it was bound to him, whatever that means." The panther was crouched, ready to spring. "He said that the panther would guard me, as he does." Blair stroked the fine grained wood as they got on the elevator. "Simon, do you believe any of this?" 

"I don't know, Blair. I know that there's a connection between the two of you. I know that Jim has a special skill that I don't understand. I've seen it work. But spirit guides..." he shrugged. "It's beyond me." 

"It's so much more than I ever dreamed. So much of what Jim is, and what my part in his abilities are, is not documented, anywhere." His last words were a whisper that Simon barely heard over the elevator. "I sometimes feel like I'm drowning under it all." Simon settled a large hand on the young man's shoulder and guided him out of the elevator and into his car. 

* * *

Simon preceded Blair into the loft, weapon drawn. He glanced around the undisturbed rooms, confirming that it was empty and safe, before letting the young man into the apartment. Blair watched the police captain with large anxious eyes. There was no way anybody would be waiting for him when they already had Jim. But the captain had silenced his protests with a hand and surveyed the apartment anyway. 

"All clear. You want some coffee or something?" Simon was already filling the teapot, making himself at home. Sandburg shook his head, then entered his bedroom. He tossed his backpack on his bed, dug out clean clothes and headed for the bathroom and a shower. Simon watched from the kitchen table, waiting for the sound of running water to drown out his cell phone as he checked on the status of the search for Ellison. 

Blair stepped into the shower, the water as hot as he could take it. Maybe the warmth would stop the tremors that rattled his body, thaw the ice that surrounded his heart. The hot water mixed with the tears that trickled down his face as he surrendered to the fear that was holding him prisoner. He still heard the panther screaming from last night, the sound a high pitched shriek that had faded to a faint mew. When he closed his eyes, he saw Jim, jungle warrior, charging through the underbrush, intent on his prey. The cat ran at his side, silent, eyes gleaming, teeth bared. His hand found the wood carving nestled in his chest hair. "Can you hear me, big guy? Hold on. We're coming." He whispered to his vision. "I won't let you down." The water ran cold and he quickly rinsed his hair and stepped out to dry off. 

Simon was drinking coffee and listening to a conversation on his phone when Sandburg reappeared, hair damp, but dressed in jeans and flannel shirt. He nodded to Simon as he disappeared into his room. He came back out a moment later, an incense burner in one hand, a candle in the other. 

"What have they found? Anything?" 

Simon shook his head. "Word on the street is not good. Supposedly one of Mexico's druglords got ripped off. He was tracking down the culprit when we busted him. So we've got the drugs, he wants them back and he's putting pressure on a local gang to do the job. So the leader, a guy named Kim Sun, decided the best way to do it was to grab a cop and make a trade. Kim Sun's brother got busted by Ellison 4 years ago." 

"So we go grab a few of the gang members and squeeze them 'til they talk." Blair growled. 

"They've gone underground. Nobody's seen any of them for about 24 hours now. So we keep hunting, and we wait for a call." 

"That sucks, Simon. They could kill Jim before we find him, if he isn't already dead from a bullet wound." Blair paced the open floor of the loft, hands twisting around the objects he held. 

"I don't like it either, Sandburg. Sometimes a cop's worst job is sitting around waiting. Waiting for a break in a case, waiting for a victim to recover from an injury, waiting for a witness to come in, waiting for a judge's decision." 

"I get the picture, Simon." He paced across the living room and pulled a couple of pillows off the couch, then added the afghan to a spot on the floor. He turned on the CD player to a piece of meditation music, lit the candle and the incense. He finally sat down on the pillows, pulling the afghan around his shoulders. He wasn't exactly sure what he was doing, but it felt right to him somehow. Like he was preparing for a journey. He took the panther from around his neck, held it in his hand, staring at it. 

"What are you doing?" Simon moved to the loveseat, close, but not invading the Guide's space. "Do you want me to leave?" 

"No, please, I'd like you to stay." He met the older cop's eyes for a moment. "I guess you could say that I'm going to try to find Jim's spirit guide. I don't know if this will work, or how long it will take." He stroked the fetish again, fingers feeling the pointed ears, long curved tail, strong carved legs. Then he closed his eyes, took a long deep breath and seemed to settle into himself, becoming completely still. 

Simon watched the young man as he sat, cross-legged on the cushions, blanket draped around his shoulders, rough wooden carving nestled in his hands. How long should he wait? 

* * *

Blair mentally built a jungle, added bird songs and insects, smells and heat. He built a lair of fallen trees, broken branches covering all but a few inches of the entrance. He placed himself outside the entrance, kneeling on the ground. And waited. And called. Jim's name, over and over, softly, soothingly, pleading. Finally, when his throat was hoarse from use, his mouth dry from the heat, a pair of green eyes appeared in the darkness of the lair. They blinked and a huge black panther slinked through the small entrance. The panther sat down on his haunches and looked at Blair, eyes never moving. 

"The Sentinel is missing." Blair whispered. "Can you show me where he is?" The panther stared at him, and suddenly changed into the Chopec Shaman. Incacha frowned at Sandburg. 

"The Sentinel is missing." The Indian's words flowed over Sandburg. 

Blair nodded, some part of him wondering how he understood the language. 

"You are following his spirit guide." 

Again Blair nodded. 

"The Sentinel is injured. He called for you." 

"I know. I came as soon as I could." 

"His spirit guide will show you where he is. Follow it." And Incacha faded into the panther, which loped into the jungle. Blair dashed after it- 

-and found himself staring at a warehouse. It was partially collapsed, one wall covered with water where it leaned over the inlet. The pilings that supported it were covered in barnacles and kelp. The panther was winding itself under the sagging building, ignoring the broken timbers. Blair followed, trying not to slip on the slime covered rocks. The panther led him to a trap door which led them to a room that was barely above the high tide mark. In fact the room was wet with seawater, the floor slimy with algae. Jim was there, curled in a ball for heat, mouth and eyes covered with duct tape, hands and feet bound with a rope that went from them around his neck, so if he tried to straighten up, he would choke. Dried blood covered his face and head. Blair groaned. 

"Jim, Jim, can you hear me?" He reached to touch his partner, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't really there, and his hand passed through his friend's shivering body. He knelt on the wet floor, "Hang on, Jim, I'll get you out, I promise. Just hang on." He looked around for the panther. "Stay with him." In response the spirit animal stretched out next to Ellison. 

Ellison's head came up as if he sensed a presence. He cocked his head, listening. Even with his mouth taped, Sandburg made out the whispered "Chief?" 

"I'll be back, Jim, I promise." Blair's fingers tried to stroke the blood stained face and he mentally pressed a kiss to the other man's temple. With a last glance at his partner and the large cat stretched out next to him, he closed his eyes. He thought of the loft, of Simon, waiting for him. 

* * *

Simon jumped as the still figure on the floor jerked, then toppled over, blood running from his nose. By the time he'd unfolded himself from the sofa, Blair was stirring, eyes opening, blinking in the light. 

"Easy, Blair. I've got you." Simon lifted the smaller man by the shoulders, turned him so that he was resting against the couch. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against the bleeding nose. 

"Simon," he whispered. His voice breaking, Blair cleared his throat, tried again. He was incredibly tired. "Simon. I saw him." His eyes met the police captain's. "He's alive." 

Simon closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Lord." He turned his attention back to the young man sitting on the floor. "Are you all right? Your nose is bleeding." 

Blair took the bloody handkerchief from the strong hand and glanced at it. He mentally made a note to himself to study up on hemorrhaging in response to psychic episodes. "Yeah, I'm fine." He made motions to get to his feet and Simon almost lifted him to the sofa. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm the drum in his chest. "How long was I out or gone, or whatever?" 

"Close to an hour. I was really beginning to worry until you toppled over and woke up." Simon went into the kitchen, turned on the tea kettle and brought Blair a glass of water. He stood over the younger man while he sipped the water and collected his thoughts. When the tea kettle whistled, he hurried back and fixed Sandburg a cup of tea, watching him from the kitchen as Blair sagged against the cushions. 

"Okay, Sandburg, spill it." The police captain handed him the steaming mug and settled down beside the grad student. "Can you give me a location?" 

"Waterfront. Old warehouse, falling into the sea. He's in a vault or a water level storage room. I don't think he's been shot, but he's really banged up, head and face." Sandburg's hands illustrated his descriptions. "And he's tied up, hands and feet, with a loop around his throat." He took a long sip of the steaming drink. "We've got to go get him, Simon. We can't wait for them to call." 

Blair suddenly launched off the couch, striding to the bookcase and desperately looking through a pile of loose pamphlets. He pulled one out and turned to Simon. "He's in a room that gets wet at high tide. We've got to find out when the next high tide is and how high it will be." He frantically skimmed the booklet, and heaved a sigh of relief when he found the information he'd been searching for. "The highest tide of the week was last night." 

Simon watched as Sandburg stood in the middle of the floor, shoulders sagging, curls in his face. The nose bleed had stopped but he hadn't tried wiping the dried blood off of his face. His skin was almost gray and the sapphire eyes weren't shining. 

"We'll get him back, Blair." The large black man went to the younger man, placed his hand on the sturdy shoulder. Jim would have pulled him into an embrace but the gruff captain wasn't comfortable with that big a show of emotion. 

"Let's go." 

"Where?" Simon was almost bowled over as Sandburg darted toward the door. 

"To the waterfront. Maybe I can locate the warehouse, give you a place to stake out." Blair was already grabbing his coat, ignoring his trembling legs and queasy stomach. 

"Blair, I think you'd better sit down for a minute. You look like death warmed over. You're not going to do Jim any good if you collapse before we find him." 

"I'll sit in the car. We're wasting time." He held the door open, waiting for the cop to precede him through it. He didn't argue when Simon took his elbow and pushed the button for the elevator instead of charging down the stairs. The cop pushed him into the elevator and into the corner where the walls could support him. 

"Fine. You sit in the car." Simon glared at the young man, shaking his head. "Do you always get your way with Ellison?" 

Blair leaned his head against the wall. "No." he grinned slightly, his eyes dancing. "but that doesn't keep me from trying." 

Simon's glare didn't lessen any. The elevator ground to a halt and Blair brushed by Simon and out the opening doors before Simon could move. He stumbled slightly but caught himself on the side of the building before Simon's hand grabbed his elbow and steered him to the car. He settled the grad student in the passenger seat, very aware of the fine tremors that rattled the younger man's frame. 

Simon pulled out of the parking lot, already on the radio, ordering a paramedic unit, and two extra backup units to meet him at a parking lot near the waterfront area. Ever since Blair had given him the sketchy description, he had been mentally driving the area, trying to pick out buildings that might fit the bill. He'd narrowed it to four buildings, separated by several blocks. He and Blair would drive by each of them and see if the Guide picked up anything, and then, if necessary do a building by building search. The police captain glanced at the grad student. Sandburg's head was lying against the side window, his eyes focused somewhere else, his hand wrapped around the panther carving. 

"What do you see?" 

"Nothing." The voice was small, distant. "But I can feel him, like a breath on the back of my neck. He's cold. Wet." The blue eyes blinked, focusing on the street they were roaring down. "What if I'm wrong, Simon?" 

Simon focused his mind on his driving. It was a question that he didn't have an answer for. He kept forgetting that the man sitting next to him didn't have the training to do what he and Ellison did, that his mind didn't think along the same lines. Sandburg was a teacher, first and foremost. But as Jim's partner he'd been exposed to the worst that society could throw at someone, and thrived. In the two years that the partnership had survived, he'd never seen Sandburg doubt his own ability to support his partner. That support was unwavering, no matter what might be needed, from holding a gun to disarming a bomb. But now he was afraid, afraid that listening to an inner voice that he didn't quite understand would lead him astray, and lose his partner in the process. 

"You're not wrong. I may not understand everything when it comes to this Sentinel business, but you're not wrong. You weren't wrong in LA, and you're not wrong now." 

"Thanks, Simon." Sandburg whispered, face still turned to the window. 

Simon pulled the car into the parking lot that he had set up for a rendezvous and was joined by Taggart and Brown in one car, Rafe in another. The paramedics were coming down the highway as Simon stepped from the car. He leaned down and pinned Sandburg with a glare. "Stay." 

Blair glared just as hard, but didn't move toward opening the door. How was Simon going to explain where he'd gotten the idea to look for Jim at those particular locations? The city was a haystack and Jim the proverbial needle; he could be anywhere. Why the waterfront? Blair watched as Taggart unrolled a map on the hood of his car and everyone gathered around. He couldn't quite hear what Simon was saying, but he watched the body language and finger pointing closely. The discussion only lasted five minutes before the cops were back in their cars and pulling out, a paramedic teaming with Rafe. 

Simon climbed back into the car and slammed the door. The police captain turned his attention back to Blair. "How you holding up?" 

Sandburg shrugged. His hands were twisting in the leather cord holding the carving. "He's hurt, Simon," the voice broke. 

"Which way?" Simon pulled out of the parking lot, following the direction that the trembling hand pointed. The streets leading to the waterfront warehouses were mostly silent in the middle of the day. Freight trucks rumbled back and forth, the occasional forklift with pallets stacked high crept along, the drivers motioning faster vehicles around them. The buildings on either side of the street were corrugated metal or wood timbers, some painted and well maintained, others sagging into disrepair as companies came and went in the war for providing supplies and goods were fought over corporate boardroom tables. Seagulls wheeled overhead as they took a street that paralleled the water's edge, threading their way under loading cranes and across parking lots, around piers that led to long barges, waiting for their cargo. 

"Stop." Blair's eyes were closed, but his voice was firm. Simon eased the car into an alley between two wooden buildings, nosed it up to stacks of barrels ready to topple at the least provocation, and killed the engine. 

Sandburg was out of the car before the engine stopped. "It's this one. I know it's this one." He ran to where the building overhung the water, confirmed his earlier vision when he saw the sagging wall and timbers resting in the water. The seawater lapped under the timbers, making slapping sounds against the wet wood. Simon's strong hand on his arm stopped him from plunging into the water and diving for the trap door he knew was under the building. 

"Let me call for backup, Sandburg, get the paramedics here. Then we'll go in." He led Sandburg back to the car, kept a firm hand on the young man's jacket collar as he called in his people. He knew that if he let go, Sandburg would be in the water before he could stop him. 

Blair fidgeted under Simon's restraining hand. He couldn't wait. It was high tide or almost. He knew that the water wasn't as high as last night but that didn't stop him from worrying. What if they couldn't get into the warehouse? What if the bad guys grabbed Jim and tried to use him as a shield for their escape? What if they shot him instead of letting him go? What if there was a shoot out and Jim got caught in the crossfire? 

Without another thought, he slipped out of the flannel shirt-jacket and dashed back to the water's edge, leaving Simon holding an empty jacket and yelling at him. He waded into the wetness. The cold burned like fire, making him shiver, as it seeped through his jeans. It was waist deep before he reached the timbers that supported the old warehouse. 

He hazard a glance over his shoulder and saw Simon on the edge of the pavement, making frantic motions for him to come back. The captain couldn't yell in case someone was inside that would hear. He shook his head at the large man and with a deep breath, ducked under the building. 

^^^^^^^^^^^ 

Simon watched in horror as the small body disappeared into the darkness. He was going to kill that kid when they got back to the station if he didn't get killed with this stunt. He hurried back to his car. 

"Taggart, Brown, is everybody in position?" 

"Yeah, Captain. Looks like there's only two doors on the front and we've got them covered. Just give the word." Taggart's rumble was soothing over the radio. 

"Go! And watch out for Sandburg. He's under the building. There's a trapdoor leading to the water. I'll cover anybody trying to get out that way." 

^^^^^^^^^^ 

Blair opened his eyes as his head went under water, wincing at the cold and the salt that burned his eyes. It wasn't truly dark underneath the building. After a moment, he could see the fuzzy edges of the collapsed timbers and riprap that waited to snag him as he tried to reach the spot where he knew the trapdoor opened into the warehouse floor. He was a good swimmer, but he knew that the cold would drain his energy as quickly as holding his breath. He moved cautiously deeper into the semi-darkness. His hands reached for timbers, sneakered feet half swam and half hunted for purchase on the slippery rocks and broken beams. His head brushed the wood floor, and he suddenly realized the water didn't reach the flooring, that there was an air pocket above him. Gratefully, he let himself float, face breaking free of the water. He inhaled several times, at the same time listening to the sounds above him. 

The water amplified the sound around him. He identified shouts, as well as gunfire, followed by running feet. The feet got closer, actually vibrating the timbers he was floating against. He quickly pushed himself completely under, aiming for the trapdoor he could barely see through the murky water around him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was cold, and his fingers were numb, as well as his legs. But he was too close to turn around. His cold fingers touched a hinge and he lifted his head for another gasp of air, listening. The footsteps felt like they were directly overhead and the wood under his fingers moved as someone jerked up on the door. Blair sank, pushing himself against a timber. He could see a flashlight aiming around the water that the opened door exposed. 

A body dropped down into the water, the splash sounding like an explosion in his ears. It was followed by another one. Blair sank back behind the timber, out of the line of sight of the flashlight and turned his face into the air, trying to draw in a quick silent breath, before sinking again. The splashing bodies had stirred up the mud and slime on the timbers, and Blair's visibility under water was destroyed. His hands gripped a piece of rebar, holding him under water as he listened intently. 

"Come on, come on! They'll break down that door in a second." 

"What about the cop? We need a hostage." 

"No time! Kill him and get it over with." 

"No way, man. You kill a cop and you're dead meat." 

"Fine! He never saw our faces anyway. This way." The bodies pushed through the water, their flashlight beam wavering in the murk. 

Blair slid away from the timber and reached for the opening in the floor. He lifted his head above the waterline and watched as the two bodies alternately swam, pushed and pulled their way through the water and away from the warehouse. Then he forgot about them, swinging himself up through the hatch and rolling onto the floor. 

He lay on the floor for a long moment, breathing great gulps of air and shivering as the cool air hit his cold wet skin through his tee shirt and thin flannel shirt. On the other side of the room, a door that had been braced with a beam across it was beginning to give away against the constant blows of several bodies. Sandburg finally pushed to his knees and crawled to where Jim lay, his body motionless in the dim light. 

"Jim! Jim!" Blair reached for the cop, then thought better of it and dug into his pocket. He found his pocketknife and cut the rope from around his friend's neck. His cold fingers couldn't find a pulse but he knew the man was alive. The connection to his Sentinel almost sang in his mind as he pulled the limp body into his arms. 

"Jim, it's Blair. Can you hear me?" He didn't shout. That was one of the things that had taken him awhile to break himself of. It was never necessary to shout to his Sentinel when they were close. He turned his partner's face to his, fingers taking a second to brush against the cold skin, running over the lump he found on the forehead, touching a blood covered gash. There wasn't enough light for him to see how badly Jim was hurt. He had to depend on his touch, and for a second, he wished for Jim's Sentinel abilities to give extra feeling to his cold fingers. 

"Jim, it's going to be all right. I've got you, pal. Simon's outside. You're going to be okay." He kept whispering as his fingers worked the tape over his friend's mouth. He finally lifted a corner and peeled the duct tape slowly off the delicate skin, wincing when it pulled. 

The beam blocking the door began to splinter and the gap of light around the door widened as it was slowly battered down. Blair glanced at it, thinking for a second that he should get up and open it for his friends outside, but he didn't want to let Jim go, now that he had found him. 

Carefully he tried to pull the tape off of Jim's eyes, fingers running around the edge until he found a corner that would lift. "I've got you, Jim. They're gone. The bad guys are gone. Betcha Simon surprised the hell out of them when they popped out of the water. You're going to be okay, hear me, tough guy. It's going to be okay." 

The head cradled in his arms stirred. "Chief?" The voice was a ragged whisper, sound barely seeping past dry lips. 

"Right here, partner. Right here." 

"Cold." He moved a little, and Blair pulled him closer, wishing that his clothes weren't soaked through. "Hurts." 

"I know. I'm cold too. I'm going to try to get this tape off your eyes. It might hurt a little." He got a finger under the edge, slowly worked it off the eyebrows. He kept talking to the body that was cuddled against his, nonsense words and reassurances. "The cavalry is right outside, they'll be here in a minute. Then I'll get you home, get you warm." The tape finally cleared the eyes and pulled off the cheekbones. 

Jim blinked his eyes a few times and Blair knew that the pupils had immediately dilated to pick up all available light. They focused on Blair's face and a slight frown touched Jim's face. 

"You're wet." 

Blair barked a laugh. "So I am. Think you can sit up so I can get your hands free?" 

The door slammed open, the bar holding it flying free in multiple pieces. Blair instinctively covered Jim's body with his own, ducking his head over Jim's, hands wrapping around both of them. 

A flashlight blinded both of them as Taggart's voice yelled "POLICE! FREEZE!" 

"Easy, Joel, it's us. Kill the light." Blair yelled from his protective posture, hands covering Jim's ears to protect them from his yell. 

"Sandburg! How'd you get in here?" The blinding light cut away from the two huddled figures. Joel stepped through the broken door, followed closely by Brown and a paramedic. 

"The bad guys got out through the trap door under the building. Did Simon get them?" 

"Yeah. He and Rafe are handling it." The paramedic stepped around Taggart's bulk, hurried to the two men, kit in hand. 

Jim was struggling to sit up, and Blair helped him, letting the man lean against his shoulder. He kept one hand on Jim's neck, rubbing gently. 

Now that the cops were on the scene and Jim was safe, Blair realized he was shaking with cold. The second paramedic appeared as if by magic, and a blanket was draped around his shoulders, another one tucked around Jim's body. Hands cut off the ropes that held the detective's legs and wrists, and checked the bloody gash on his head. 

Joel knelt next to Blair. "How did you get here? Never mind, I don't want to know." He shook his head, marveling at how the young man almost always ended up in the middle of things, intentional or otherwise. The big cop was dressed in SWAT team black, flak vest over his police windbreaker, earpiece and mike over the baseball cap. He touched the shivering shoulder. "You okay?" 

"I'm okay, just cold." He glanced up as Simon entered the doorway. "Glad you guys could make it," he offered with a grin. 

"SANDBURG! I told you to stay put!" Simon roared at the anthropologist. "Are you ever going to listen to me?" 

"Probably not where Jim is concerned." Blair muttered to himself, loud enough for his Sentinel to hear and nobody else. Jim stirred against him, turning to look at his partner, a question on his face. 

Then the captain was there, staring down at his missing detective and soaking wet partner. He held the glare for a long minute, then sighed, kneeling down next to them. "How you feeling, Jim?" 

The detective brushed a paramedic's hand from his face as the man tried to put a gauze pad over the injury on his forehead. "I'm okay." 

The paramedic shook his head. "He's got a concussion, and that gash could use a few stitches. He's probably border line hypothermic." His chin motioned toward Sandburg. "Him too." 

"I just want to get out of here." Jim mumbled to his partner. "Let's go home." 

"Sure thing." Blair maneuvered himself free of Jim's body and got to his feet, handing the blanket back to the paramedic. Jim took the offered hand and let Blair help him to his feet. When his numbed legs failed to hold his weight for a moment, his Guide's shoulder was under his arm, arm around Jim's waist until he could stand and move. The little bit of warmth from the blanket wicked away quickly and Blair shivered, then realized that Jim was shivering more than he was. The detective had been wet far longer then he'd been. 

The paramedic protested. "He should really be checked out. And he needs stitches. We have an ambulance outside." The young man with intense brown eyes, looked from one cop to the other, finally settling his gaze on Sandburg. "At least let me put a couple of butterfly bandages over it and pull it closed." 

Blair still had his arm around Jim's waist, supporting most of the detective's weight. "Okay. Give me a hand." Jim didn't protest at Blair's decision or Simon taking his other arm. 

By the time they made it to the back of the ambulance, Jim was almost steady on his feet. But the blow to his head had made his senses act up and both hearing and sight were fading in and out, adding to the pounding within. He let Blair settle him on the extended bumper, but when his Guide started to step away, Jim grabbed his hand and pulled him down beside him. 

"Stay." He squinted against the early evening light, finally putting his hand over his eyes and whispered. "Everything's out of whack." 

"I'm right here." And the Guide settled his hand over his Sentinel's, stroking over the furrowed forehead and over the closed eyes. "Take a deep breath and relax Jim. Deep breath. Let the pain bleed away into my touch." 

^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

Simon stood at the entrance to the warehouse, watching as the two soaked kidnappers were put into a patrol car, then glanced over to the ambulance where Ellison and Sandburg were being tended to. He was furious at the young man. Sandburg had endangered the bust, his life and the life of his partner. But as he watched Blair stroke the older man's forehead, the fury died away. The connection between Sentinel and Guide would not be denied, and the police captain couldn't deny that Sandburg would always put his partner's safety before his own. And if Jim's safety meant disobeying a police order, so be it. He shook his head at the team. 

Taggart interrupted the captain's thoughts. "We found a handful of arms, some drugs and some documents that tie the kidnappers into a gang and Kim Sun." 

"Good. Make sure that everything is done by the book. I don't want them slipping through a legal loophole." 

"How did you know that this was where they were holding Jim?" 

"I got a tip." Simon lit a cigar and smiled around it. 

"Sure you did. Are you sharing your snitch?" 

"Course not. Would you?" Simon tapped the big man on the shoulder before wandering over to the ambulance. 

The paramedic with a name-tag proclaiming himself as Joe was putting the fourth butterfly bandage over the gash on Jim's head, pulling the two edges together. Blair had taken off the long sleeve flannel shirt he'd had on, as well as the tee shirt and was wringing them out. He pulled them back on and then unbuttoned Jim's shirt, slipped it off, and did the same. 

"Sandburg, when Jim is home and settled, I want to talk to you. In my office, on Monday, with no excuses." 

Sandburg finished pulling the shirt back onto his partner. "Yes, sir, Captain Banks, no problem." He glanced up at the big man's face and shot an arched eyebrow at the police captain. The young man was serious, as professional as any of the cops still milling around, no emotions coloring his voice or face. "Can we get a ride home?" 

Joe cleared his throat. "Detective, I wish you'd reconsider. Concussions shouldn't be taken lightly." He closed the medical kit beside him and wiped his hands on a towel. 

The other medic added his voice to the request. "You've been tied up, beaten, almost drowned, spent hours in a cold wet environment without any heat, not to mention water..." 

"There's nothing you can do for me at a hospital that my partner can't do for me at home. And if I have any problems, he'll be the first to call you." 

"You got that right." Blair's voice quietly supported the cop's. 

The paramedics traded glances, then shrugged. "Cops are almost as bad as patients as we are. Always knowing what's best for themselves and their partners." They stood up, and Blair helped Jim to his feet again so the medics could close the ambulance doors. 

Simon got his car from the alley and pulled in front of his detective. Sandburg settled Jim into the front seat and belted him in, ignoring Jim's "I'm not helpless" comment. He settled into the backseat, then pulled on his abandoned shirt-jacket and asked Simon to turn up the heat. 

The drive back to the loft was silent, each man lost in the haze of his thoughts. Simon finally opened a window as the car heated up and the moisture fogged the windows. He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw that Blair's eyes were closed. Jim's were too. 

"Sandburg?" Simon murmured toward his backseat passenger. 

"Yeah, Captain? I'm awake." Sandburg stirred. 

"You're not forgiven." 

"Didn't expect it." Blair raised his head from the seat, rubbed his eyes. He leaned over the seat and placed his hand on his sleeping partner's shoulder. "I could not not go to him, Simon. Sometimes the connection between us demands a response, like now. It wasn't good cop procedure, and I'm sorry that I disobeyed your orders, but it wouldn't have mattered who you were and what the situation. I would have gone to him." 

"That's not smart, Blair. They could have killed him before we could have gotten inside. And if you'd been there, you'd be dead too. Next time might be worse. You can't let this connection drive you into doing something that might jeopardize both of you. You've got to think. Not react." 

Sandburg gripped the shoulder under his hand. "I'm listening, Simon." His voice was soft, open. 

"Sometimes a cop has got to listen to his partner, and to his superior, no matter what his instincts are telling him to do. You've got good instincts, Sandburg. And you're getting the training, not exactly how a cop usually gets it, but two years as Jim's partner has taught you a lot. And you're smart. Use that intelligence, use those instincts, and protect your partner. But protect yourself as well. He's stronger with you than without you." 

"Is this your rookie graduation speech, Simon?" 

"No. This is my, 'don't endanger your partner because you're bone-headed' speech." 

"Even when a spirit guide is demanding that I do something?" 

"Especially then, Sandburg. Listen to whatever it is that is demanding action, but think it through before you jump. If I understand this right, Jim's spirit guide works on a completely different level then what you and Jim work on. You've got to keep that in mind." 

Blair studied the older cop. "Simon, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you've been studying." 

Simon snorted. "I'm a cop. That makes me an observer, Sandburg. Not so different from you. Just on a different level. And I've got a lot of years to fall back on. You're just starting, regardless of how many books you've read, how many expeditions you've been on." 

Jim stirred under Blair's hand, finally opened his eyes. "Chief?" 

"Right here. We're almost home. How you feeling?" 

"I have a headache." The cop squinted, rubbed his eyes. "But my eyes seem to be on line." 

"How's the hearing?" 

"Better." He moved so he could really study his partner. "You look like a drowned rat, Chief. What happened?" 

Simon and Blair's eyes met in the mirror. "I'll tell you when we get home." Simon nodded okay at the grad student's answer. 

Jim rubbed his wrists, then touched the red marks on his throat. "Did you get them?" He asked his captain. "Do you know who and why?" 

"We got two of them and we have a good idea who's behind it. What do you remember?" 

"Driving home." His eyes grew distant. "A car tried running me off the road. There were some shots. Then I woke up laying on a wet floor with water coming in. I couldn't see, couldn't tell where I was. When I tried to get up I just about choked myself. My senses were cutting in and out, so I couldn't get a fix on anything." Jim fell silent, then looked at Blair again. 

"When did you get here? Did Simon call you?" 

"No. The panther did. Your spirit guide said you were in trouble. I caught the next plane out of LA. Then the panther showed me where you were." Blair shrugged. "The rest is history." 

The ice blue eyes of the Sentinel met the smoky blue of his Guide. The link between them blazed hot for an instant. "We've got to talk, Chief." Jim's voice whispered. 

Blair nodded. 

^^^^^^^^^^^ 

The loft was warm and dry. Jim looked around when he entered his home. "Can't believe that all this happened in less than 24 hours. I feel like it's been days since I left here." 

"I know the feeling." Blair mumbled as he pulled off wet shoes and socks. Simon's car heater had warmed him some, but now he needed to get out of the wet clothes and dry off. He went into his room and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and another flannel shirt, shivers starting up his spine. 

Simon watched him disappear into his room before turning back to his detective. "You sure you're going to be all right?" 

"Yeah, Simon. A hot shower, some aspirin, and some sleep should fix me right up." 

"Keep an eye on Sandburg. This has been quite an ordeal for him. And call me, if you need anything." The police captain started for the door. 

"Will do, Captain." Jim waved as the captain closed the door behind him. 

Blair came out of his room, went upstairs and brought back a pair of sweats, a tee shirt and robe for Jim. He placed them in the bathroom. 

"Go get warm, Jim. I'll fix you something to drink and eat." 

"What about you? I think you're colder and wetter than I am." 

"Just leave me some hot water." Blair filled the coffee pot. He listened as Jim closed the bathroom door and started the water. Exhaustion was rapidly catching up with him again and he leaned against the kitchen counter. 

Closing his eyes he reached for the panther under his shirt and envisioned Incacha's face. "Thank you." 

A panther purred in his ears. 

^^^^^^^^^ 

Jim stood under the water until it started to turn cool; breathing the steam and feeling the warmth finally penetrate the coldness inside his aching body. He finally turned it off, remembering his promise to Sandburg about leaving him some hot water. A fluffy blue towel rubbed briskly over his back and shoulders finished warming him, and he pulled on the sweatpants and robe. He looked at the mirror, while he drank glass after glass of water, seeing the taped cut and the bruises on his neck and face. Jim shook his head. He was going to be a mess for a few days. 

He opened the bathroom door and followed the steam out of the room. He heard the coffee pot gurgle as it finished brewing and his nose welcomed the heady scent. Two mugs sat on the counter, ready to be filled. Jim looked around the kitchen for Blair, expecting to find him bent over in front of the fridge. 

Instead he found Blair huddled in front of the balcony doors shaking from the combination of being wet, cold and delayed reaction. His hair was still mostly wet and drops of water had dampened the shoulders of his flannel shirt. Two long strides brought Jim to Blair's side as the detective dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around the shaking body. He turned Blair into his chest, pulling his guide tightly against him. 

"I thought you were dead, oh, God, I thought you were dead. Somehow, I knew you weren't, but I still thought you were." Blair shuddered again and his arms came up and wrapped around Jim's neck. "I knew I'd feel it if you were gone, but I kept seeing you in the dark, wet and alone and the blood... I was just so afraid... So afraid you would die and I'd never have a chance to tell you..." 

Jim's butt hit the floor as he tried to balance the slender body trying to crawl into his lap. "It's okay, Blair... shh... it's okay. I'm right here, not going anywhere." He wrapped his arms tightly around the firm back, rubbing up and down with long soothing strokes. 

Blair's arms tightened around the sentinel's neck. "Don't ever leave me. I couldn't take it if you left me." The voice was a broken whisper. 

Jim unwound the long arms from his neck, held both cold hands in one while he forced Blair to look at him. "What are you saying, Chief?" 

Blair's eyes were bright and water threatened to spill, but he blinked furiously, holding back the tears. "I guess I'm saying... I love you." If Jim hadn't been a sentinel, he would have never heard the confession. 

Jim smiled. Then a face splitting grin covered his face and he pulled Blair back into his embrace. "About damn time one of us had the courage to admit it, Chief." He rocked Blair a few times then pushed him away again so he could see his partner's face. 

Blair's eyes were wide with shock. Then the pale face flushed and Blair looked away, suddenly embarrassed by the emotions running across his features. 

"Chief, I love you, but my butt can't handle sitting on anymore cold hard floors tonight. Get up." Jim's tone was soft and teasing. 

Blair scrambled to his feet and pulled Jim up after him. For a moment he didn't know what do to. He wanted Jim back in his arms, but he froze, afraid to reach out after voicing his deepest secret. 

Jim took the initiative. He pulled Blair into his arms and walked backwards into the living room where he turned and braced his partner against the support beam. 

"Tell you what, Chief. Why don't you go shower, get warm, while I make us some soup. Then, after we've eaten, you can tell me about how you found me, and I can tell you how much I love you. How does that sound?" Jim finished his statement with an air stealing kiss. 

Blair nodded, when Jim let him go, then sagged against the wood column. His eyes followed his new lover as Jim poured them coffee and handed Blair his mug. Jim turned Sandburg toward the bathroom and gave a gentle shove. 

^^^^^^^^^^ 

Jim's eyes followed the younger man as he staggered unsteadily to the bathroom, and his ears continued the surveillance once the door closed. Jim hid the smile on his face behind the coffee mug as his hearing picked up his partner's mutterings about sentinels, spirit guides, and hot water. 

The sentinel dragged his worn out body to a chair and collapsed into it as his guide showered. Jim knew they were both too tired for anything more than cuddling tonight, but he was more than happy to just 'be' with his Guide for now. They both needed the physical reassurance of holding one another after the close call of the last twenty-four hours, and a night of cuddling would fill that need just fine. Lost in his thoughts, the hand that caressed his face startled him and he jumped. 

"Hey, man, did you zone?" Blair was wearing a pair of old gray sweatpants and a blue towel around his shoulders. Tiny sparkles of water still beaded in the thick mat of hair on his chest. 

Jim looked at the worried face of his friend and smiled. "No, I was just thinking. How was the shower? Feel better? Warmer?" 

Blair's blue eyes twinkled and he rubbed at his dripping hair with the towel around his neck. "Heaven. Absolute heaven to be warm and dry again. Is the soup ready?" 

"Uh, I never got around to heating it." Jim replied sheepishly. 

Blair shook his head with a grin. "I'll take care of it." He went into the kitchen, one hand still rubbing at his hair, while the other hand searched through a cabinet shelf and pulled down two cans of tomato soup. He opened the cans with quick efficient movements and dumped the contents into two glass mugs and stuffed them in the microwave. 

Jim forced himself out of his comfortable chair and into the kitchen where he dug out two spoons and a pack of vegetable crackers. Blair wrapped the mugs with a towel and followed Jim to the table. They inhaled the food in silence, feet rubbing against feet under the table. Blair emptied the mug and looked at it longingly, then pushed it away. 

"I'm too beat to think about making anything else." He leaned back against the chair with his eyes closed. 

Jim finished the soup, then took the empty mugs and spoons into the kitchen and set them in the sink with their coffee mugs. He returned to Blair's side and lifted Sandburg from the chair. 

"Come on, let's go to bed." 

Blair nodded and turned toward his room. Jim's hand on his arm stopped him. He looked at the hand wrapped around his bicep, then into the blue eyes. 

"I thought we'd sleep together tonight, Chief." Jim answered Blair's questioning look. 

Blair flushed and ducked his head, his hair falling to hide his face. 

"I... I like that idea, Jim." 

Jim wrapped both arms around his lover and pulled him into a kiss. 

"Then let's go, I'm barely standing here, partner." Jim draped his arm around Blair's waist and turned them toward the stairs. 

Blair wrapped his arm around Jim's waist, and burrowed two fingers under the belt of Jim's robe. The new lovers supported one another as they climbed the stairs and fell into bed, robe, sweatpants and towel tossed in a corner. 

The two men tumbled around the bed until they were comfortable with Blair on his side and Jim spooned behind him. Jim wrapped his arms around the warm body and pulled Blair tightly against his chest. A finger found the tiny gold nipple ring and stroked it while one leg nestled between Blair's bent knees. 

Blair covered Jim's arms with his own and turned his head toward his lover for a kiss. Jim drank in his new lover's flavor with a long sigh. He nuzzled the damp curls. 

"In the morning, you can tell me all about how you found me." Jim whispered into an ear as sleep claimed him. 

Blair nodded. "In the morning," he whispered. Then he settled his head on the pillow he shared with his lover and let sleep pull him under. 

* * *

End


End file.
